


Spin Me A Yarn

by redheadgirl



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, OC, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgirl/pseuds/redheadgirl
Summary: Ginny gets a rookie, Salvi makes a bet with his wife, the Padres lose their collective minds, and Mike tries to keep it all from blowing up.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Spin Me A Yarn

Not a single player was stupid enough to comment on the ball of yarn rolling down the aisle of the airplane. Like something you’d see in a cartoon, all of the Padres watched the ball slowly roll towards the cockpit before coming to a stop under a seat. As one they turned to look towards the back of the plane, only to see a shiny gold object come tumbling down the aisle on the same path as the yarn.. The men all exchanged wide eyed glances before quickly turning away to focus intently on whatever they had been doing. One of the rookies at the card table laid his cards down and went to reach for the yarn but froze when a veteran grabbed his arm and gave a sharp shake of his head. The kid took the warning and settled back into his seat with a quick, fearful glance back down the aisle.

The players held their breath, but after a full minute with nothing else being thrown, they relaxed enough to glance secretively at each other. 

“No,” Livan said emphatically. He didn’t even look up from his phone to deliver his refusal. 

“We didn’t ask you anything,” Salvi objected quietly.

“You were going to. Let Lawson risk his life. I’m not going back there.”

With a sigh loud enough to be heard by the front half of the plane, Mike rose from the sofa where he had just stretched out for a nap. “Not brave enough to even walk back there,” he asked, his tone taunting.

Livan snorted. “Not stupid enough.” He finally looked up from his screen and smirked at Lawson. “It was nice knowing you.”

Several players shushed them, and with another sigh Mike began his trek to the back of the planes. As improbable as it was, he could  _ feel  _ their gazes follow him down the aisle, their faith in his ability to defuse the situation tempered by the concern that they might all be caught in the blow back if he failed.

“Whatcha doing Baker,” he asked as he leaned over the seat directly in front of her. 

Ginny glared at him. “YouTube was wrong,” she bit out. She nearly threw her tablet onto the seat beside her and scowled at the offending electronic like it was completely to blame for her upset.

Mike gave a mock gasp. “You mean the internet lied to you? I had no idea that happened.”

Ginny’s glare was so malevolent that it wiped the smirk from Mike’s face. “How about you take your sarcasm and stupid beard and go back to the front of the plane?”

“Low blow Baker,” Mike said with an exaggerated gasp, his hands coming up to protectively cover his beard. “Leave Rico out of this.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Rico,” she repeated slowly, curiosity reluctantly dragging her out of her sulk. “You named your beard Rico?”

“Well, it’s not set in stone or anything. Still, how can something this magnificent not have a great name,” Mike blithely responded, knowing that she wasn’t going to let his announcement go without some sort of comment. But he knew his rookie well after two years playing together, and her response was going to clue him in on what her mood was.

Ginny shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.” She crossed her arms and settled back into her seat. Just when Mike thought she was going to try and ignore him -not that he would allow that- she muttered, “You better not say that around the boys. They’ll never let it go.” 

Mike internally sighed. So she was frustrated, not angry. He’d give her a couple of minutes to calm down, then pry the truth out of her about what had her worked up.

“Hey, are these yours,” Willis asked, coming out of nowhere to drop the former projectiles on the seat next to Ginny. 

“Jesus,” Mike groaned as Ginny’s scowl returned. “Make some noise when you walk, will you,” he told the kid, when what he really wanted to do was lambaste him for undoing Mike’s hard work in calming Ginny’s mood.

Kid really was an accurate description of the guy. Willis had been called up last week, two days after his twentieth birthday. The eleventh round draft pick had seemingly come out of nowhere, rising from rookie league to AA in less than a year in the minors. His blazing speed, gaudy .406 batting average, and top notch defense had led to him being called up straight from AA when the Padres left fielder had gone down with a serious knee injury a week ago. Since Willis had been in the majors, he might have said ten words total. It was ironic that half of those words were spoken now, when all Mike had needed was silence.

“Maybe,” Ginny said with a narrow eyed gaze, daring the kid to say something derogatory about it.

“If you’re t-trying to make a magic circle, you’re in the wrong loop.” 

“What the hell are you talking about,” Mike asked, looking at the kid like he was speaking Martian.

Ginny sat straight up in her seat, her scowl gone. “Wait, you know how to make a magic circle? For real?”. Without waiting for Willis to answer, she shoved all of the items on the seat to the floor and scooted closer to the window on the bench seat. She patted the cushion beside her, silently offering the guy a seat. “Can you show me?” To Mike, her voice seemed almost...eager.

The kid slid into the bench next to her. “Sure.”

Mike felt like he had whiplash from the sudden change in Ginny’s mood. “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes flicking back and forth from Ginny’s smile to the kid’s serious expression.

“Go away, Lawson. We have work to do,” Ginny said, eyes already locked on the yarn in Willis’s hands. 

Mike blithely ignored her statement, as he did all the other times she tried that nonsense with him. What he couldn’t ignore was the hesitant looks Willis kept sneaking at him, and the fact that he was literally squirming in his seat. The kid’s discomfort was radiating off of him in nearly visible waves the longer Mike watched them. 

Mike might be a jerk, but he was a jerk that remembered how hard it was to be a young rookie on a club, years behind everyone in both age and experiences. He pushed away from the seat with a dramatic sigh. 

“Alright kid, it’s now your job to keep Baker contained. Don’t let her throw anything else. With our luck, she’d impale a pilot and take the entire plane down.”

*****************

“Alright boys and Baker, listen up,” Mike announced to the clubhouse at large. “For those of you that haven’t played in Milwaukee in April, you’re in for a treat. It’s freaking miserable. You’re going to feel like you’ve broken your fingers when you make contact with the ball, and Lord help you if you catch a ball in the palm of your mitt. You’re going to think your entire arm is on fire. For anyone dumb enough, I mean lucky enough, to play first, I highly recommend putting a hand warmer in the back of your mitt so you don’t cry every time you catch a throw. I’ve decided that it is against my religion to play when the temp is below thirty degrees and will not be leaving my warm hotel…Baker, what are you doing?”

It took a second for the assembled players to adjust to the subject change, but as one, the entire team turned to stare at Ginny in the back of the room. She had frozen in the act of handing something to Willis, a string dangling from her hand into a bag by her feet. 

“Nothing,” she answered. “Just listening to your riveting speech about how the cold hurts your joints now that you’re old.”

“So what’s in your hand,” Mike asked, ignoring her dig.

“Are you passing notes,” Shrek asked from across the room.

“Hey, if you have snacks I hope you brought enough to share,” Melky added helpfully.

Ginny visibly perked up. “Actually, I did bring enough to share,” she said with a smile. She dropped the item into Willis’ still outstretched hand, and rummaged in her bag for a moment while the team watched in blatant curiosity. She finally found what she was looking for and smiled triumphantly at the room as she rose from her chair and held up her hands. 

“Why do you have yarn,” Blip asked after the team starred in silent confusion for a full ten seconds.

“And a huge needle,” Shrek pointed out.

“Number one, not a needle, Shrek. It’s a hook. Number two, I’m learning to crochet and you lucky guys can learn with me.”

It was hard to tell who was more horrified, the veterans or Willis. His face blanched white, presumably at the thought of teaching an entire team of professional athletes anything, let alone yarn art. The vets, on the other hard, looked like they thought Ginny had lost her mind.

“Crochet? Like old woman stuff? Why would I want to do that?” Fervent nods from the assembled ball players supported Sonny’s baffled question.

“It is  _ not  _ old woman stuff,” Ginny responded hotly. “Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

“And what cause is that,” Blip asked, his tone a little hesitant. It wasn’t often anyone saw Ginny really worked up, but her sharp response made him cautious.

A look of chagrin showed briefly on her face. “Babies,” she muttered as she sat back down.

“What did she say? I couldn’t hear her,” a player shouted from the front of the room. 

“She said babies,” Berger replied in a tone that conveyed discomfort, hesitancy, and reluctant curiosity all at once.

Basic physics should have made it impossible to actually hear someone hold their breath, but Mike would have sworn in court that he could actually _hear_ the entire team hold their breath, their eyes wide in shock as they exchanged glances with each other.

It took Ginny approximately 0.2 seconds to realize the reason for the loud silence. “Oh my God, you freaks, I’m not pregnant. Seriously? Am I not allowed to even say baby without my uterus entering the conversation,” she bit out in frustration.

As one, the team turned pleading eyes on Mike. “Cut the boys some slack, Baker. Half of them aren’t old enough to know where babies come from and the other half think pregnancy is contagious,” Mike called out with a smirk.

“It has to be contagious,” Hinkley immediately defended. “There are seven WAGS currently pregnant. It’s got to be something in the water they serve in their suite during the game.”

“Or it could be because no one has anything else to do in the off-season except..,” Livan began.

“Hey, not in front of Willis,” Blip interrupted. “He’s too young to hear that word.”

“I was just going to say stay in bed all day,” Livan responded, all wide-eyed innocence. Laughter, scoffing, and rude noises of disbelief filled the clubhouse.

“Hey, I want to hear about Ginny’s babies,” Shrek called out, bringing the room to, if not complete silence, at least down to suppressed chaos.

“My brother’s baby was born last month, at only 24 weeks. I got to see him once in the NICU, and it was..,” Ginny paused, her eyes focused on something only she could see. “It was unbelievable. He was so small it didn’t even seem possible. There were so many babies in that area, each one tinier than the last. Some of them were so small, even the lightest touch could be dangerous. I’ve never even imagined anything like that,” she said with a small shake of her head.

“I know what you mean,” Salvi said, his voice carrying in the silent room despite his soft tone. “My youngest was born at 32 weeks and it was terrifying how small she was. Then I looked around the NICU and realized she was almost twice as big as a couple of those babies.”

“How is your nephew doing now,” Shrek asked.

Ginny gave a sharp shake to her head. She couldn’t say the words, not yet. “When I was there I noticed that some of the babies had little homemade hats or gloves. I asked about it and they said sometimes people donated crocheted hats to them. It helps keep the babies warm and also keeps them from..,” she abruptly stopped to clear her throat.

“It keeps them from pulling their IVs from the veins in their scalp,” Salvi finished. Several of the players grimaced and ran their hands over their hair in sympathy.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Ginny continued. “So, I want to make hats for the babies. I hate the thought that there might not be enough for all of them to have one of their own. And even though there are practical reasons for the hats, I think that it means something to the parents, too. It seems like a stranger is giving your baby a hug, you know?”

“I think my wife still has the one my daughter wore in the NICU,” Salvi confirmed. “It’s probably with her Christening gown and that stuff.”

“So how did you get roped into this, kid,” Shrek asked Willis.

“Just ‘cause you’re a rookie doesn’t mean you can’t tell her no,” Sonny agreed.

“Really? Have you ever tried to tell Ginny no about anything,” Blip countered “It’s not the kid’s fault that he hasn’t figured out how to tell her no and actually stick with it.”

“Oh my God, I’m not that bad. I would have listened if Willis told me no.” Ginny paused for a second. “Probably.”

“So spill kid, what did she say?”

Mike silently cringed at Willis’s blush. The guy couldn’t even tolerate his teammates all staring at him, and these were the guys he would be spending eighteen hours a day with. Seriously, it should be illegal for a person to be that shy. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Ginny objected before Willis could open his mouth. “He saw the disaster that was my first attempt at crocheting and offered to help. Turns out crochet is a lot more complicated than I thought, but I’m finally improving, right?” She looked at Willis for confirmation and when he nodded his agreement, she turned a smug smile at her teammates. “So, who wants to help me make hats for babies?”

“Hold on, I want to know how Willis became such an expert on crocheting,” Shrek objected.

“So, I’m guessing you want the mint green yarn Shrek,” Ginny said without missing a beat. She grabbed a skein of yarn and threw it at him with only slightly less speed than her fastball. 

Mike watched the interaction with sharp eyes. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Ginny had answered for Willis, not once but twice, turning the team’s attention from him to her with the ease of a PR wizard. It was almost like she was shielding him, even protecting him, which was odd because, to his knowledge, Ginny protected no one over the age of eight. 

“I didn’t agree to this,” Shrek objected as he fumbled the yarn. 

“Yes you did,” Salvi corrected. “You’re going to learn how to do this shit with me.”

“But..,” Shrek began to protest.

Salvi leaned forward in his chair, his smile disappearing. “Miami,” he said. Nothing more, just the city name said in a menacing tone.

Shrek swallowed audibly. “You know, I’ve always wanted to learn how to knit,” he began after a pregnant pause.

“Crochet,” Ginny corrected.

“Yeah, that. And you know I love helping babies,” he added in a choked voice.

“That’s awesome Shrek,” Ginny responded brightly, ignoring the obvious blackmail. “The more the merrier.”

“Well now that we have our sewing circle all set up, let’s get back to the original point,” Mike said, too secretly amused to say it with more than a mild amount of sarcasm. “Our fun field trip to Milkaukee. In April. Remember we’re leaving right after the game tonight, so there is still time to have someone bring over your flannel lined, winter ready jock cup. If you don’t have one, buy one now and have it delivered to the clubhouse. Trust me boys, your nuts, and your potential children, will thank you for it.”

**********

She had lasted six minutes, which was about five minutes longer than he had expected.

When Salvi had sent out a group message calling a mandatory rookies meeting, Mike was suspicious. Still, he might have let it go if he hadn’t gotten a slew of texts from the team veterans, wondering why they weren’t invited for a team meeting. After the tenth text, he told everyone to show up if they wanted to and that this was a Salvi thing, so all questions would have to go to Salvi. Not only did Mike’s directive save him from more obnoxious texts, it also kept him from having to admit he didn’t have a clue what was going on. 

Mike leaned back on the wall and crossed his arms, watching Ginny creep down the hallway, so focused on making no sound that she didn’t notice him standing less than ten feet away from her. He waited until she pressed her ear to the conference room door before approaching her. 

“I never thought you’d sink this low,” he whispered in her ear.

Ginny nearly wet her pants. She spun around so quickly she hit her temple on Mike’s jaw.

“Be quiet before they hear you,” she hissed at Mike, rubbing at the sore spot on her temple.

“You have a hard head,” he told her, tentatively touching the red spot on his jaw to check for damage. “I mean, even harder than I had imagined,” he corrected himself, not bothering to lower his voice. When Ginny tried to shush him, he rolled his eyes and chuffed out a laugh before reaching over and pulling the door open, nearly smacking her in the face when she leapt forward to try and stop him. 

Mike strode through the door with his normal swagger, confident in his welcome whether he was actually invited or not. Much to his amusement, Ginny tried to sneak in behind him, as if trying to go unnoticed.

“So what are we doing kids,” Mike asked the assembled rookies. He toed a chair around and straddled it as he faced the room. In contrast, Ginny moved along the outside of the room to where Willis sat and tapped him on the arm. The kid gave her a smile and slid over a chair, giving up his seat without argument. 

They all heard the cursing well before the conference room door was yanked open. Mike went so far as to rise from his chair to see the commotion. 

Salvi tried to enter the room but was brought up short when his bag caught on the door frame. With another curse and a tug, Salvi stumbled into the room, his balance thrown off by the industrial sized garbage bag hung over his shoulder. 

“Hey look, it’s Salvi Claus,” Ginny called out.

“No one invited you, Ginny,” Salvi retorted after he dropped his huge bag in the front of the room. Before Ginny could retaliate, and really, she would have said something brilliant, Salvi upended his bag. Dozens and dozens of skeins of yarn spilled out of the black plastic and rolled across the floor. 

“It looks like a unicorn just vomited on the carpet,” Torrez, their southpaw reliever, muttered. Any thought of laughter the team may have had was quickly suppressed when the normally gregarious Salvi glared at the room.

“This is no joking matter,” the first baseman warned in a tone usually reserved for war and/or the World Series. “Our honor has been challenged and we have a lot of work to do to defend ourselves.”

Mike and Ginny exchanged glances. “Care to explain,” Mike prompted.

“I asked my wife if she still had my daughter’s cap from the NICU. She said she did, and I mentioned I’ll like to have it so we could use it for sizing. One thing led to another and now she wants to have the WAGS make the hats because she doesn’t think the players can do it.” Salvi crossed his arms and scowled at the memory. “She tried to say it was because we were too busy, or our hands were too big to hold the small hooks, but I know the truth. She thinks the Padres can’t do it because we’re men.”

The players sucked in a breath, already anticipating how  _ that  _ statement was going to be received.

“I beg your pardon,” Ginny bit out. “Number one, I’m pretty sure you should know by now that I’m a woman and play on the Padres.”

“And you’ve done a good job too,” Mike interrupted, not letting her continue what would undoubtedly become one of her feminista rants if she got to her number two. “So this emergency meeting is really about mandatory crochet lessons? You’re conscripting the rookies so you can win an argument with your wife?”

“Exactly,” Salvi agreed with a head nod. “Now, everyone grab a color.” When no one moved, Salvi crossed his arms and glared. “You have three seconds to get the yarn, or this year’s rookie initiation will be everyone shaving their heads. Starting today.”

Mike shook his head as two relievers were nearly trampled in the sudden stampede to grab yarn. The situation had all the markings of a train wreck, yet he couldn’t look away. “What about the needles,” he couldn’t resist asking, absurdly starting to enjoy himself.

“They’re called hooks,” Salvi corrected as he rummaged through the garbage bag. “And it turns out they have different sizes. Who knew?” 

“Who knew,” Mike repeated, trying hard to sound supportive, not sarcastic.

Salvi emerged from the garbage bag triumphantly, holding a box above his head like it contained the secret to a 0.400 batting average. “I didn’t know what size or how many we would need, so I got some extras.” He opened the box and peered in, before handing it off to Willis with a shrug.

Ginny leaned over and rummaged through the box. The discordant sound of metal striking metal filled the room. “Salvi, there must be a hundred hooks in here.”

“One hundred and thirty two,” Salvi corrected.

“That might be enough,” Ginny said, wryly. “But just barely.”

“No worries,” Salvi reassured her, completely missing the sarcasm. “As soon as Willis tells me what size to use, the ladies at the craft shop will bring us more. They love me.”

“I’ll bet they do,” Mike muttered.

“Hold on,” Ginny said as Willis obediently pawed through the box, occasionally pulling out a hook and setting it aside. “You want us to teach ten guys how to crochet well enough to make baby hats today?”

“No, I want Willis to teach us how to crochet today,” Saliv corrected. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so, right? Think of how many baby hats we’ll have already finished by tonight when I call my kids.”

Both Ginny and Willis gaped at him. “It’s not that easy,” Ginny finally said. “It’s taken me three days to finish my first hat, and that’s with a bunch of help from Willis.”

“Well, maybe you’re just a slow learner,” Salvi argued. “I’m sure Willis can have us turning out hats faster than that.”

“Hold on Salvi,” Mike interjected. He shot out of his chair and moved to stand in front of the first baseman, not because he was eager to talk about yarn, but because he was eager to save the guy’s life. Ginny looked like her head was about to explode in anger, and Mike didn’t want to explain to MLB how a Padres player died from a crochet hook through the eye. “Do you have any idea what is actually involved in this?”

“Yup. I watched a YouTube video last night and printed out that pattern that they used. That’s how I knew what yarn to get.”

Mike’s eyebrow rose in surprise. Maybe Salvi really did know what he was doing. “And?”

“We have Willis. He can help if we need it, not that I think we will. It seems really easy.”

Salvi was an idiot. There was no other explanation. Even Mike knew it wasn’t going to be easy and he had never so much as seen a crocheted hat before. “How about this? You can leave everything you have here and Willis can go through it. He’ll make a list of anything else that you’ll need, you can send that list to your ladies at the craft shop, and while we wait we can all watch crochet videos online, as long as Willis says they’re okay.”

Salvi thought for a minute before giving a shrug. “Fine. I’ll go grab my laptop. I can hook it up to the video system in here so we can all watch the same ones while we’re waiting on the supplies from the shop. It seems like a lot of unnecessary fuss, but I’m down for whatever it takes to beat the WAGS.”

***************

  
  


**Mike to Padres Group:** The game has officially been cancelled.

**Voohries:** Kinda figured with the 4 inches of snow

**Shrek:** So much for Wisconsinites being tough. Can’t even handle a little snow. Lol

**Ellis:** The hell we can’t! I’ve played in a lot worse than this. Guarantee it wasn’t the Brewers that wanted to cancel.

**Hinkley:** I hate to agree with Wisconsin on anything, but gonna side with Ellis. Officials here wouldn’t cancel t-ball for a few inches of snow, let alone pro ball.

**Ellis:** See, Minnesota gets it.

**Sonny:** Gotta agree. Played in the beginning of a blizzard in A ball in northern Iowa. The umps only called it because first base iced over and a guy broke his ankle when his foot slipped off it as he ran out a dropped third strike. They just shoveled between innings and we kept playing.

**Sonny:** #midwestsurvivors #toughguys

**Ginny:** Just wait until the end of April and it goes from blizzard season to tornado season... #toughlady #Indianaproball #baseballintornadoes 

**Mike:** Fine. You four can go be tough and swim in frozen lakes. The rest of us will be smart and stay warm in the hotel, resting up for the double header tomorrow.

**Ginny:** #Mikesacoward #dontbeababy

**Salvi:** Team meet up in the conference room. Free beer and pizza. 

**Blip:** Meet up? For what?

**Ginny:** Don’t ask.

**Salvi:** Defending the team’s honor.. 

**Voohries:** What honor?

**Salvi:** Will explain at the meeting.

**Melky:** You had me at beer.

***************

“So kid, how did you end up a crochet expert?”

Several of the players raised their heads to look at Willis, waiting for him to answer Salvi’s question.

“I’m not,” Willis muttered, not looking up from the yarn in his hands. 

“Hey, let him fix the knot in my yarn before you grill him,” Torrez objected. “You’re distracting him to slow me down. That’s cheating.”

“You’re not going to win Torrez, so quit whining. Willis is a smart guy, he can multitask,” Shrek pointed out.

“Hey, why am I not considered an expert,” Ginny called out. “I’ve fixed your yarn three times in the last hour, Salvi.”

Mike leaned back in his chair and studied the room. No less than twenty professional baseball players starred intensely at the yarn in their hands, trying with varying levels of success to turn said yarn into a respectable preemie hat. Ginny was scowling, her gaze flicking back and forth between her yarn and the Shrek’s cocky smile. Blip was changing the setting on the laptop so the hat pattern would be continuously displayed on the screen with no interruptions by the screensaver. And Willis was blushing a bright red as he handed the now tangle free yarn back to Torrez. 

“Because you’re not an expert. You’re the Padawan. Willis is the Jedi Master Of Yarn and I want to hear from him.”

Mike almost snotted beer. Jedi master of yarn. God, that one wasn’t going to go away. The kid could be the best ballplayer the world had ever seen, and he would still be known as the Jedi Of Yarn to every Padre forever more. 

Willis slid back into his chair next to Ginny and picked up his own nearly completed hat. Several of the players watched him in expectant silence. After a nudge from Ginny, he sighed.

“My grandmother t-taught me,” Willis said, his eyes on his work. “All of us l-l-learned when we were young. Boys, girls, she d-didn’t care, we all had to know how to crochet.”

Mike watched as the players looked up and exchanged glances with each other. Given that it was the first time most of them had heard him speak, Mike hoped it was less the stutter and more the startling deep voice that raised their eyebrows in surprise. 

“So is it like riding a bike? You just learned as a kid and never forgot,” Sonny asked.

Willis just shrugged, his hands flying on the yarn. It took another elbow from Ginny to get the guy to continue talking. “We d-din’t just l-l-learn for fun. We all had to help out, and crochet was something that everyone could d-do.”

Sonny leaned forward intrigued, his yarn hanging forgotten from his fingers. “What do you mean help out? Did you guys crochet blankets and stuff?”

“Does your family have an Etsy store,” Salvi asked. “What? My wife loves stuff on Etsy,” he defended as the players gaped at him. 

“No Etsy because there’s no computer at home. Th-think more like farmer’s markets, craft shows, and word of mouth.”

Mike grimaced in shared sympathy. For a minute he wished he had yarn of his own to focus on as a wash of uncomfortable childhood memories came over him. Frankly he could use the distraction that the repetitive movement would bring. He might have more in common with this kid then their amazing baseball abilities, and that wasn’t good. No kid should have to go without necessities through no fault of their own.

“Are you from a big family,” Shrek asked.

For the first time, Willis looked up from his yarn. “Th-there were nine of us in a th-three bedroom house. Yeah, I’m from a big family.” His grin was so genuine that the players smiled instinctively in return. 

“Your parents had seven kids? Good Lord, I can’t handle my three. I don’t know whether to commend your parents or commit them,” Salvi said.

The kid’s smile faded, but he continued to face the players. All crochet attempts had stopped, everyone focused on the story they were hearing. “My grandparents t-took all of us in. I have one biological brother, th-the others are cousins. But we’re as close as siblings, so it’s all good.”

“I get it. We had six of us in a two bedroom place,” Torrez said. “And that doesn’t include all the family that would constantly be in and out. It was chaos.”

“Yeah, chaos was the other word I was thinking of,” Blip muttered to Mike.

“It was sweet of your grandparents to take you all in,” Ginny told both of the players.

“Sweet? You’ve never m-m-met my grandparents, if you th-think th-th-th..,” Willis paused to take a breath. “If you believe my grandma is sweet, you’ve not met her. She’ll go at you with a wooden spoon if she even suspects that you’re up to something. And you better hope my granddad d-doesn’t feel you’re being d-disrespectful. T-trust me on th-that.”

“Better a wooden spoon than a sandal,” Torrez muttered in disagreement. 

“You can make good money off of crochet stuff though, right? Given how much money my wife spends on Etsy, you must have been able to get by okay,” Salvi said.

“Salvi, it’s rude to talk about money,” Ginny corrected sternly.

Willis shifted in his seat, his cheeks showing pink again. “Not really. People d-don’t get th-that it isn’t a fast and easy th-th-thing to crochet stuff. A hat might take a few hours, but people only want t-to pay five bucks when th-the yarn alone costs eight. But if all of us worked a couple of hours every night, we could get four or five hats d-done, and it added up. Especially in the fall and winter. It was usually enough t-to get by.”

“So can you make fancy stuff too, like blankets and baby clothes,” Mike asked in curiosity, drawn into the story despite his reluctance to get involved.

“Sometimes. My grandma and Pops are t-the best, so th-th-th..,” Willis gave a shake of his head and looked down at his yarn again. “Complicated stuff goes to experts,” he continued after a pause.

“Well, I wish I would have known this,” Ginny announced. “I could have crocheted in the minors instead of having to nanny for two toddlers every morning. It wasn’t fun dealing with all their energy on four hours of sleep.”

Mike studied Willis, saw the way the kid quickly glanced up from his yarn at the room as if waiting for judgement. God help him, the last thing Mike needed was another rookie to keep an eye on but, damn it, the kid got to him. “Hell yeah, I would have crocheted if it meant not working a warehouse every free minute I had. And it would have been a nice distraction from those twelve hour bus rides,” Mike called out, surprising himself as well as the rest of the players with his admission.

There were groans of commiseration as they all remembered the miserable trips that were so much a part of the minor league experience. “You might have made more money too,” Sonny pointed out. “I sure as heck would have. Our club did their best, but they could only pay so much to clean the stands after every home game.”

“You mean they acknowledge you couldn’t survive on $700 a month? My A club acted like I should be grateful to even make that much,” Voohries said.

“So we all agree that Willis was smarter than we were in the minors,” Salvi interrupted. “That’s great. Now can we get back to our main purpose? We must defend the honor of ballplayers everywhere. We must defeat the WAGS!” 

And just that quickly, the room filled with laughter, insults, and the general nonsense that came with adults who played a child’s game for a living. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Willis give a sigh of relief and laugh when Ginny said something, probably giving him grief over something. 

Once again Lawson kicked back in his chair, feet on the table and enjoyed his beer. He kept his hat low over his eyes as he scrolled through messages and news on his phone, while occasionally taking a look at the assembled players to verify no one was doing anything more stupid than normal.

Instead, as he watched with growing fascination, he clearly saw Ginny stay close to Willis. Not mothering him or protecting him, Mike recognized, just...watching out for him. Mike had a sudden realization and he was glad his hat would hide his reaction. He saw a mentor/mentee relationship forming in front of him, and damn if he didn’t recognize himself in Ginny’s actions.

Mike glared at his phone, suddenly annoyed. Ginny shouldn’t be mentoring anyone, she still needed more seasoning in the big show. Yeah, maybe his rookie didn’t need quite as much help as she used to but she still needed his guidance. Hell, she could be a twenty year veteran and still have a lot to learn from him. She might be seasoned compared to a baby like Willis, but she had nothing on Mike’s wisdom, experience, and general awesomeness, he rationalized. In fact, it was his civic duty to keep an eye on her, help her keep growing as a player. He nodded at his logic. She still needed him.

“Hey Lawson, I see your head nodding over there,” Ginny called out. “Is it past your bedtime already?”

The players oohed at the dig and looked expectantly at him for a response. “How could I possibly be bored with all of this scintillating conversation,” Mike shot back with obvious sarcasm. “I mean, we are literally our own Golden Girls episode. What’s not to love about a sewing circle?”

“Crochet,” several players immediately corrected.

“Done,” Salvi said at a near shout, making several players startle. “I’m first at finishing a hat,” he announced triumphantly, standing up to hold a misshapen blob of yarn that, if Mike squinted and tilted his head at a forty-five degree angle, slightly resembled a hat. Slightly.

Without a word, Willis reached onto the seat next to him and threw something at Salvi. The first hat hit the big man in the chest, the second in the gut. By the time Willis’s third hat flew, Ginny had tossed one also, and someone else had thrown a ball of yarn at Salvi, missing his head by a yard.

Mike mentally sighed and reminded himself to add either more mandatory practices or eye exams to the bullpen’s schedule, because it was a reliever that missed the big guy. 

Sonny rushed towards the fallen hats and scooped them up, carefully brushing each one off and setting in delicately on the table. “Guys, have some respect,” he chided. “These are for babies, they're not weaponry.”

The assembled players looked awkwardly away from the hats, and gathered their supplies before taking their seats. “And because no one came to claim these hats, I am now officially claiming them and adding it to my tally,” Sonny announced with a smile that was downright diabolical. He pulled up a spreadsheet on Salvi’s laptop and, as the room watched, altered the results.

**Ginny** : -1

**Willis** : -3

**Salvi** : 0 (too misshapen for identification purposes)

**Sonny** : 4

Mike barely saved his beer from being knocked over as several players rushed the table to grab the laptop. Mike stood up and stretched, happy the noise hid the pops and cracks from his already sore back.

“I’m out. Try not to get yourselves arrested this time,” he advised on his way to the door, having to nearly shout to be heard over the noise. A thought crossed his mind and he faced the room, his eyes narrowing, already hearing future arguments in his head. “I’d suggest adding edit tracking on that spreadsheet, Salvi, just to make sure it’s not being edited unfairly. You might want to keep a printed copy too, preferably with someone that’s not involved in your contest.”

“Are you suggesting we would cheat,” Shrek called out, all shocked outrage.

“I’m suggesting nothing. I’m flat out saying that yes, you all would cheat if you thought you could get away with it.”

“You got that right,” Berger agreed without shame. “We’re shady bastards.”

And with his teammates nodding their agreement to Berger’s statement, Mike left.  _ They’ll be fine _ , he thought on his way to the elevator.  _ There was no way they could get in trouble with yarn. _

*******

Mike stood freezing his ass off as he manned first base, scowling at the batter, the umpire, and the stadium in general.  _ I should have known better _ , he thought as he pounded his fist into his mitt to bring back feeling to his numb hand. Of course the Padres could get themselves into trouble with yarn. After all his years in baseball, he should know by now that there was nothing a player couldn’t get in trouble with. Hadn’t he learned anything from the Great Baby Powder Incident of 2014?  _ No,  _ he answered himself.  _ Apparently I haven’t learned a thing. _

His eyes focused on Ginny as she gripped the ball in her mitt only to immediately release it, rub her hand her jersey, and try again to readjust her hold on the ball before shaking her hand out. Mike immediately moved towards the mound, subtly signalling Livan to request time from the ump before trotting out from behind home plate to join them. 

“What’s wrong, rookie? If your hands are going numb, you’re allowed to blow on your fingers as long as you wipe any moisture off before you handle the ball,” Mike advised, trying to get a look at her hand without making it obvious to the crowd that that’s what he was doing. He belatedly remembered to bring his mitt up to his mouth to hide his words. 

“ _ Mami _ ? You okay,” Livan asked her. “Beside it being so cold that we’re freezing to death,” he muttered through chattering teeth. Mike wanted to laugh at the Cuban, who was wearing the maximum amount of clothing possible while still being able to fit into his uniform. The only part of him visible was from his eyebrows to his chin, and that much only because Livan had pulled down his neck wrap below his lips to talk. But then a gust of wind blew a dusting of snow on the back of Mike’s neck, and he could no longer mock Livan because his teeth were chattering, too. 

Both men expected an argument before she would confess the problem, but Ginny surprised them by holding out her pitching hand . Blood dripped from two fingers, and Mike could see at least one blister on her thumb. 

“Are you kidding me,” Mike hissed, in no way sympathetic to her pain. “Didn’t you think this should have been addressed pre-game?”

“You too,  _ mami _ ,” Livan asked with a sigh before waving to the dugout for the trainer. “I expected better of you.”

Ed trotted out from the dugout, Lu walking slowly behind him looking like he wished he had retired in the off season. Ginny looked down at the mound and kicked at the dirt, and Mike thought she resembled a child trying to avoid the punishment they all knew they deserved. 

The home ump followed the group to the mound and after a glimpse of Ginny’s hand, he announced that she wouldn’t be allowed to continue, although Livan put forth his best effort to convince the man that “it’s cold enough to freeze blood”, so it wasn’t technically breaking the rules against foreign substances on the baseball.

Lu waited for the ump to step back before muttering, “Who exactly do we have left that can pitch? Is Butch the only one of you idiots that doesn’t have blisters all over his hands?” 

All the Padres, bar a lucky few, were sporting blisters of various quantities and sizes under their gloves. The lucky ones were able to cover them with specialized bandages held on with their batting gloves and played through the discomfort by remembering that the odds of anyone being able to get a hard hit in a windchill of sixteen degrees weren’t great. The unlucky ones had hands that were too torn up to play, which was why Mike was playing first because Salvi couldn’t fit his mitt over all his blisters, and Ginny had her start moved up because both Sonny  _ and  _ Berger had blisters on their pitching hands that had burst during warm-ups. 

Livan opened his mouth, undoubtedly to point out his lack of blisters, but closed it again when he noticed Mike give a small shake of his head. Mike knew how lucky they were to play under a manager that believed in keeping team problems out of the public eye, and he didn’t want whatever nonsense that was going to come out of his backup’s mouth to push Lu into breaking his rule. Especially since no one would begrudge the skipper the right to yell at his players for their idiocy, least of all the players themselves.

Lu tapped his right arm, and there was immediate motion in the bullpen as Butch began to strip off the three layers of clothes he had huddled under. After a moment of silent watching, Lu spoke.

“So who won the contest?”

All three players stared in shock at the grizzled veteran. Lu snorted in amusement. “Come on, you think I didn’t notice something was up? I’m not stupid. I had to go break up an argument between players at three in the morning about the difference between aquamarine and teal. No ballplayer cares that much about anything without some kind of prize being on the line.”

“Well, it’s for a good cause,” Ginny sputtered.

“And I’m guessing that good cause involved Salvi stealing trash cans from the hotel’s kitchen to store yarn?”

Ginny glanced at Mike, as if he could give her the correct answer to the skipper’s question. “Umm...maybe?” 

Lu snorted his amusement. “Maybe, my ass,” he chuffed out. “Go on, kid. Get your hand cleaned up. The last thing you want to do is get moved to the Injured List with slow-healing blisters because you wanted to win a contest.”

With an embarrassed grimace at the reminder, Ginny handed the baseball to her skipper and dutifully walked towards the dugout, blood slowly trailing down her fingers.

The three men stood in silence, watching Butch begin his walk from the bullpen, stretching his arms and shoulders has he walked.

“Willis and Ginny have been disqualified from the contest due to an unfair advantage,” Livan said suddenly. “Right now Shrek is winning with four hats, although Sonny insists he has more despite the fact that everyone else agreed it’s illegal for him to claim the hats Willis and Ginny made. Most of the players have two, and Hinkley is dead last with only one hat completed because he had to throw away the first hat when he spilled food on it because the idiot tried to crochet and eat nachos at the same time.”

Mike turned to stare at his backup. The same backup, it must be noted, that showed exactly zero interest in anything going on around him that didn’t directly involve him. “And how do you know any of this?”

Lu shifted a little closer to the catchers, hunching his shoulders like he was using them as windbreaks against the chill. “Keep going,” he told Livan. “You have thirty seconds until Butch gets here so talk fast.”

Livan met Mike’s eyes and smirked. “Salvi and his wife are no longer talking and she expects him to sleep at the clubhouse until he apologizes for calling her ‘the misandrist keeping him down’.”

A chuff of laughter escaped Mike. Leave it to Salvi to use the only big word he knew to insult his wife.

“Voohries got busted trying to buy hats off of Etsy and have them overnighted, so he and three other players now have Parental Controls set on their internet access for the rest of the trip. Berger is working hard to convince his girlfriend that this does  _ not  _ need to be reviewed by the PR dept, no matter how great she thinks it would be to prove that ‘athletes have a softer side too’. It took two days for Javanes and his wife to stop yelling at each other long enough to agree that neither could enlist their four kids to help, because that would be violating the spirit of the competition.” 

Livan paused as Butch approached the mound and took the ball from Lu. “Blisters get her,” Butch asked. His words implied it was a question, but his tone said he already knew the answer.

“Yup,” Mike said with a huff. Even his rookie had let competitiveness override common sense.

Butch held out his hand. “No blisters. I can finish the game,” he assured the men.The three nodded in approval of the gesture, although it would take a miracle for the reliever to go all eight innings.

Livan raised his eyebrow. “And Butch’s family has been making quilts for UCSD pediatrics for several years. They all agreed to not join the hat competition and focus on continuing their blankets instead.”

“Snitch,” Butch said mildly before motioning them off his mound.

Mike dutifully walked back to first, doing his best not to kick the infield grass like a pouting toddler. Here he was, trying to be the best captain he could be, and how was he repaid? He was freezing his balls off at first, a position he disliked playing in the best of times, which certainly wasn’t Wisconsin in April. He had to watch Butch shake off three of Livan’s calls in a row because Livan kept stupidly calling for a change-up when the batter couldn’t hit any fastball above 85 mph. The dugout was filled with players who had completely given up a pretense of dignity, and they huddled under blankets in front of an embarrassing amount of heaters. And for the cherry on top of his shit sundae, his self-centered backup had suddenly developed the ability to pay attention to his teammates, which meant he actually had some inside dirt that Mike didn’t. 

Mike pressed his back foot against the side of first base, doing his best to hold the inherited runner to the bag. Butch didn’t have the fastest delivery, even when pitching out of the stretch, but the runner was young, a rookie trying to carve out a place for himself in the bigs. Mike made a slight motion with his glove, nearly invisible to anyone not watching him closely. In a minor miracle, Livan caught the movement and made a last minute sign change to Butch, who nodded once in confirmation of the change. 

The runner was fast, but Mike’s tag was faster. The kid dove for the bag the minute he saw Butch’s move towards first, but with a perfect throw and a perfect tag (if Mike did say so himself), the kid hadn’t stood a chance, and it was an easy third out of the inning.

Mike’s mood lifted as he headed off the field and he was flat out grinning by the time he trotted down the three stairs from the field into the much needed warmth of the dugout. The players had emerged from their blanket igloos and were trying to congratulate each other without actually making hand contact. He shook his head as he watched Ginny try to clap with her wrists while Salvi attempted to convince Butch to high five with only their fingertips.

As soon as Mike settled on the bench in front of a heater, Ginny plopped down next to him. She offered him part of her blanket with a sheepish smile. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she sighed dramatically.

“Okay, fine. You were right. Our team is full of children and I shouldn’t have made it a competition. Are you happy now?” 

Mike pulled hard on the blanket and yanked it from her hands. He wrapped the entire blanket around himself and settled further down on the bench, trying to get his feet as close to the heater as possible. He took a moment to savor the rarity of Ginny Baker, his rookie and all around pain-in-his-ass, admitting he was right.

“I’m getting there rookie,” he said with a smirk. “I’m getting there.”


End file.
